Friday, May 12, 2017

Final Absurdities of The Real Housewives of Toronto

The Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode Ten, Season Finale

As it began so it ends: Dumb, dishonest, petty and dull, albeit with a dash of the absurd, as well as an elephant thrown in for good measure. It was only the promise of this absurdity in addition to my curiosity regarding the shady men lurking in the periphery that kept me going until the bitter end. 



And lo and behold, what do I notice "lurking in the periphery" like a serial killer with unlimited resources playing high society stalking games, because yachts, private islands and silicone-implanted "models" are interesting for only so long when you're a psycho with discerning tastes? Brett Wilson. Or he's just another weaselly lecher who uses his status to access as many women as he possibly can before his erectile dysfunction is permanently medication-resistant and castration becomes his last remaining option. Either way. He sounds so stupid and full of himself and looks like such a clown, it's hard to fathom a man this ridiculous is masking some hidden evil mastermind. Look at him. What an asshole.


Notice how Brett and his secret bleacher companion, Jana, can't be in the same room together. As I learned during my last round with The Real Housewives of Vancouver, Brett is a man with a reputation for using women like disposable Kleenex, leaving a littered trail of female heartbreak where ever he goes. The chances then that he uses the women he "invests" in or "mentors" to appease his lechery is completely plausible. The Brett Wilsons of the world are notorious for leveraging their positions of authority and power to take advantage of vulnerable, gullible women or ambitious, awe-struck ones. The mess of female debris that invariably swirls around these kinds of men isn't there because of their superior sexual prowess, that's for sure. Repulsive. Jana's son excuse? Give me a break. She couldn't find a babysitter? Jana never misses a social engagement that would double as a platform to network and cross-promote her Joga enterprise. Why this time?  Coincidence? I think not.
There is no such thing as coincidence. Only the illusion of coincidence itself ~ V for Vendetta


But putting aside the satisfying feeling of being right about something for once, how do these people and the fawning multitudes who flock around them not see how utterly absurd they look or how despicable their extravagances are in a world teeming with so much poverty and suffering? 


There is no beauty in the finest cloth if it makes hunger and unhappiness ~ Mahatma Gandhi
We're all supposed to be SO impressed, in such awe, of the "elites" and their fucked up obsession with fashion. They act as if the designs are THEIR designs! They do the same thing with the arts. They collect, display and wear other people's work and then call it their own as if they literally did the creating. Granted, without the vanity of the rich and famous, their propensity to put on airs and their habit of spending outrageous sums of money, culture and the arts would suffer, but their total appropriation of creative works nevertheless irritates me. Thieves.

With regards to fashion specifically, the irritation metastasizes into anger and disgust when one considers the unnecessary evils related to the clothing industry, such as flagrant pollution and environmental damage. Then there are the inhumane working conditions and mental health problems associated with the fashion trade, whether we're talking teen models starved and treated like branded cattle in a slaughterhouse, the eating disorders, body dysmorphia and sexual objectification intimately tied to commercialized fashion, or the slave wages of factory workers in impoverished countries with dismal human rights track records. 



I'm not against culture and the arts, prosperity, progress or freedom of expression, but I am against injustice and the cruelty of indifference towards the poor, sick, hurt and struggling. I am against the massive imbalance of power and wealth caused by corruption and the unregulated capitalist greed of a privileged few, who rig the game in their favor, at the expense of an anguished, disempowered many. 

I'm against the idolization of flawed mortals. And I'm against applauding their grandiose displays of obscene riches, while immediately outside their golden gates, languishing below their gilded cages, disadvantaged human beings writhe in pain and struggle in vain as they fight to survive.



Then UNBELIEVABLY, the second people who have too much money, such as Joan and Don Walker or whipping boy, Brett Wilson, decide to adopt the prestigious title of "philanthropist" and throw some resources at the very suffering and inequality they're responsible for creating and maintaining in the first place, we're all expected to be pathetically ingratiating and deferential towards them?? 




Constantly praising the filthy rich for giving back to the world that made their atrocious accumulation of wealth possible is as ludicrous as constantly praising divorced fathers for paying child support. These are moral imperatives. They SHOULD be doing these things without expecting anything in return. They already have SO MUCH. It's not good for ANY human soul to be so fucking greedy, or for ANY ego to be stroked so vigorously and so ceaselessly. Nothing should be stroked that vigorously or go on for THAT long.

The fatuous posturing and eccentric habits of the privileged and well-to-do, as if they've jumped straight out of the pages of The Hunger Games, wouldn't bother me to the degree it does if there wasn't just SO MUCH human misery surrounding them that they could actually do something structurally significant to change. 

If there wasn't all this desperate need and injustice in the world, I'd feel the same way about the extravagant lifestyles of the rich and famous as I do about tattoos, cartoonish breast implants that transform women into bimbo caricatures, "open" relationships, Pajama People, flaky New Age trends and religious fundamentalism: I'd never submit to these lifestyle choices and belief systems, but "whatever" if someone else does. Other than being curious about these things, I don't care. I might not get it, but to each their own. 




However, it isn't quite the case, is it, that the rich are simply living frivolous, materialistic lives that have no detrimental, oppressive effects on anyone else? They live the way they do, hoarding wealth, totally indifferent (other than for the purposes of their self-serving philanthropy and marketing ploys), and almost downright contemptuous of the poorer masses because they're addicted to the power, illicit temptations, luxuries and unending adulation that comes with their affluence. 

They don't really want to do anything to alleviate suffering or elevate the oppressed into an improved state of being because that wouldn't serve their superiority complex or feed their lust for power. They don't really care about anyone else. They want an inferior, peasant class that stays desperate and hungry because it keeps THEM rich and powerful.

They like feeling superior, feeling like gods and goddesses, kings and queens. They like believing they're above the rest of us, either by divine decree or meritorious "hard work". And they like the idea that others are inferior because they're meant to be inferior. In other words, they like oppression and they like believing those who are oppressed somehow deserve their oppression.

With regards to their addiction to the constant praise that comes with status, how often do we hear the women of any of the Real Housewives franchises being greeted with how "amazing" they look, or how "beautiful" they are, or how they are "goddesses"? It's nauseating. 

It's so nauseating that I hope this series stops in Canada so I never feel the obsessive need to focus on the "Real Housewives" of anything ever again for the rest of my marginalized existence. And I do not say this because I'm some horrible, embittered person overwhelmed with debilitating "envy" and malice the way Roxy by the way is, despite how she and her "reputation management team" spin it. Her micro-expressions, body language and the contradiction between what is said and what is done don't lie. 

If you want to know what makes a person tick, you have to ignore the superficial things they, their friends, family, acquaintances or the people they employ say. I mean, other than what the superficiality itself says about them.

Envy is a littleness of soul, which cannot see beyond a certain point, and if it does not occupy the whole space, feels itself excluded ~ William Hazlitt
You have to ignore the platitudes they regurgitate, and you can't be bamboozled by their status, material success, credentials or the impressive people they claim as friends. You have to pay attention to the minutia. Absolutely everything in life, no matter how seemingly trivial, is endowed with some meaning, some clue that can help you uncover hidden truths, illuminate concealed miracles and expose otherwise cleverly disguised lies, if you have the eye for it.

Life, no matter how outwardly mundane, difficult or unfair becomes infinitely more fascinating if you have access to this "eye". On the flip side of all these pretty illuminations, however, are shadows, sometimes very dark shadows, and the "eye" notices these, too. 

When you start looking past personas into the deeper recesses, and notice these dark shadows  the unpleasantries, the ugliness, the cruelties, the barbarism, the "negativity", the nihilism, the sheer evil  if you're not vigilant, it can be downright brutal on your own conscience and sense of well-being, even though all you're doing is looking.

Thus, when I say I hope to never feel the need to obsessively watch another "real housewife" of anything ever again, although I still find these shows enticing observation tools, the melancholy that watching reality TV can induce in me is not a nice experience. I don't actually enjoy disliking people I don't even know to such an extent. It's an uncomfortable feeling. 

If it was the case that I'm simply a hateful bitch who gets some perverse pleasure out of examining the "dark side" of human nature in the context of reality TV, I wouldn't have deleted all my Real Housewives of Vancouver blogs (although now that I've "caught" Brett Wilson lurking in the shadows of The Real Housewives of Toronto, I wish I hadn't deleted anything). I curse reality TV for making me aware of his presence on this planet. 

You see? This is what I'm talking about. I do not like despising someone I don't even know (or someone I do for that matter), but the seed's been planted now, it's taken root and it's proving more difficult than I would have ever imagined possible to weed it out. If this was The Office of my mind, I'd be Michael and Brett would be Toby, he annoys me to that degree of irrational intensity. Hopefully I'm not the only Office fan around here, otherwise this reference will not make much sense.



If there is anything "debilitating" from a mental health standpoint about my interest in reality TV and celebrity culture, then, it's only that it tends to make me ruminate a little too much on the idea that there is something alarmingly wrong with our humanity when we worship the rich and famous the way we do as if they're immortals, while letting the meek, the unknown, the poor and the abused rot in some overflowing garbage dump or be used as nothing but cheap, slave labour and objects of sexual assault.

Case in point, Magna, of which Don Walker is the CEO, opens assembly plant after assembly plant in Mexico because slave wages, trade union suppression, lack of workers' rights or even basic respect for humanity dignity, as well as unenforced government regulations and unrestricted trading borders keep costs of labour and production low enough to enable the Donalds of the world multi-million dollar compensations.  This then puts the Joans of the world in the "envious" position of being able to throw elaborate parties on a whim, so she can show off their privilege and material trinkets on television to much acclaim and devotion. Essentially, the rich FEED off the poor like fucking leeches.

But who wants to think about that? Who, other than maybe a few who reject the banality of the "positivity movement", want to think about all the "negativity" involved with the social ills of the world? Why do that when we can watch "goddesses", Ann Kaplan and Joan Walker, distract themselves with shopping for golden elephants and giant lip-shaped chaise loungers? 




Or when we can listen in on Jana Webb and Roxy Earle as they maliciously (and gleefully) gossip yet AGAIN about Kara Alloway? And then in turn observe Ann and Kara hash out the details of the same piece of gossip, albeit from a different angle, that Jana and Roxy were just digging into?


Jana and Roxy meet up to verbally "rip apart" Kara Alloway yet again, Jana stating, "I'm scared she's going to rip me apart and I'm going to be a rug on her floor". She's afraid?? THEY are the ones ripping apart Kara! Unbelievable. The always hateful, jealous Roxy disagrees and snaps, "Let's be clear, this is not an intimidating person. She's not important". Well, dummies, that turned out to be patently untrue, didn't it? You ALL made Kara Alloway THE MOST IMPORTANT focal point of the ENTIRE first season (and I imagine last) of The Real Housewives of Toronto. Then, unbelievably again after spending the whole segement trash talking Kara, Jana ends it by saying, "You know what? Let's stop talking about it, it's so negative". A LITTLE LATE for that, oh great Yogi of Bimbo!! Good god!
Why would we think about depressing Mexican factory workers far removed from "The True North, strong and free", who are paid a pittance and used like workhorses, when we can watch Don ogle the fake tits of some chick straddling his Harley amidst the opulence of a "condo" that's more like a castle than a condo? Why would we?


The wandering eye of a filthy rich man always finds a pair of tits to land on. Where the eye goes, the dick is sure to follow. Sorry, Joan, your husband's a dog. But I'm sure you knew that. Oh well, you have the diamond.
And that OUTLANDISH vow renewal circus?! What the? I already had the Capitol citizens from the Hunger Games, with their bizarre getups and mindless indulgences, in my head from Joan's earlier fashion show, but Ann and Stevie's wedding ceremony clinched it. Holy shit. The inanity! The phoniness! The ego! The self-exaltation! The senseless waste of money! 


We live increasingly in a world of haves and have-nots, of gated communities next to ghettos, of extreme poverty and unbelievable riches. Some enjoy rights that are completely denied to others. Relative inequalities are exploding, and the world's poorest, despite all the advances of globalisation, may even be getting poorer ~ Noreena Hertz
Meanwhile, there's an affordable housing crisis in Toronto, a city dubbed Canada's inequality capital and home to one of the largest wealth gaps on the planet. The shelters overflow and food banks cannot keep up with the demand. Untreated mental illness, addiction and human trafficking (we're talking children!) loiter the streets, sleep under cardboard or hide in the shadows, forced there by either those who are exploiting them or by a society that doesn't want to look at them.


Ann Kaplan and Joan Walker compare diamonds, their status symbols. They are status symbols that are stained with blood and infused with the stench of pollution, but they don't care. They can go shopping!
A society that doesn't care, where the bulk of the wealth stays at the tip of the pyramid, separated from the woes of this ugly world like a highly selective blood-brain barrier. The barrier is there to prevent foreign, harmful substances found in the blood from entering the brain. But guess what? It can still happen and even if it doesn't, when disease strikes the rest of the body, eventually the brain will be affected and eventually the whole body will die. The pyramid will crumble and the capstone will fall.



The self-glorifying rich, the corrupt and those with merciless ambition who abuse, ignore and exploit the poor, the gullible and the victims of circumstance will return to dust. They will meet their fate. The law of karma will prevail, whether in this life or the next. 

Or at least that's what peasants like me tell each other. It makes us feel better about our plight, but really? Leonard Cohen was right:

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

I originally ended this blog with ill will, encouraging, Jana, for example, to perform Joga "tricks" until she developed an unsightly rash and itched so badly that her hair fell out by its bleached roots. But then I heard she'd been involved in a near-fatal head-on collision not long after The Real Housewives of Toronto finished taping, resulting in a long, painful recovery period. So I guess I'll take back my unkind "encouragement" and wish her well.

I also suggested Joan should down another bottle of wine and rip off another pair of panties until she projectile-vomited and a bacterial infection took over her urinary tract, but now that seems a little mean. So I'll take that back too and wish her the best of luck with Donald and his wandering eye. She's going to need it.

I furthermore thought Grego should yelp out another yahoo! until her voice became so hoarse that she croaked like a fucking toad. I told Ann to go ahead and inject some more filler into her face until her transformation into an unrecognizable mutant socialite good only for terrifying small children was complete. I thought Roxy could indulge to her gluttonous heart's content until her vanity and greed ballooned so far beyond the confines of her skull that her head blew up. However, I take it all back. May their futures be glaringly bright and blindingly illuminating.

But the men "lurking in the periphery"? My only wish for them is that they may one day get everything they deserve.

The end.

Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 1: Dumb, Plastic and Sleazy
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 2: Boring Housewives and Ugly Husbands
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 3: The Polished Real Housewives of Toronto
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 4: The Slut Shame
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 5: Amazing Reality TV Stars
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 6: Infomercials and Friends in High Places
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 7: Social Suicide: Game of Thrones to the Rescue
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 8: Curious incuriosity
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 9: Denials, Dragons and Dummies
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 10, Season Finale: Final Absurdities

Sunday, May 7, 2017

The Real Denials, Dragons and Elephants of Toronto

The Real Housewives of Toronto Episode Nine

The truth is a sharp blade, a surprise attack, a dragon's flame, a slap in the face, and a bucket of ice cold water over the head when you live a shallow existence full of your own falsely perceived greatness, surrounded by sycophants, yes men and handmaidens programmed to serve your vanities and your vanities alone. This is why the Barbie dolls of The Real Housewives of Toronto were so "ambushed" by Kara's unvarnished candor in episode nine. It's not easy being green, it's not easy being plastic.



Fake people concentrate so much brain power on their outward appearance and superficial personas that they neglect to develop the kind of inner strength and depth of character that would enable them to handle the honesty of a sharp tongue. 




One harsh word, a single snide remark or an unflattering truth that challenges their denial, and they collapse in a heap of despair and bewilderment. Or they erupt into a bleating fracas of outrage, which is exactly what happened with dumb and dumber, Jana and Grego. But the title of Queen Dummy has got to go to trophy-giraffe, Joan.


Yes, well-preserved second wife Joan is still considered a trophy wife even though she has been married to a Donald for "20 years". Perhaps if she had  not kept up the cosmetic "fine tuning" and exercise regimen "Don loves" so much things would be different? It does make one wonder about the possibility of  secret "illicit trophies", though, doesn't it? The kind a filthy rich man pays for and uses but doesn't marry (think "Caligula Effect").

She was so slow-witted and almost slurry in her speech, it was hard to tell if she was even sober during the entirety of episode nine. I'm a little concerned for her fragile mental state. This is a perfect example of why a little hardship and having to deal with bullies, difficult people and criticism are all unfortunate but necessary training grounds for building character and emotional resilience.





Learning to deal with adversity empowers you. On the flip side, if you don't learn how to deal with it effectively, adversity and the injustices of life can utterly destroy a person. The trick then isn't to avoid adversity, but to learn how to "roll with the punches". If you don't, you'll get punched in the head so many times you'll be rendered nothing but a mushy vegetable, one that is easily manipulated around the plate.

Unless, apparently, you were born privileged, then you don't really have to "roll with the punches" because the punches are prevented from getting near you in the first place. You can just lay back and bask in your own uncontested glory, fanned by your attentive servants, praised by your adoring, awestruck subjects. 




(Joan might not have been born into wealth and privilege, but her natural-born ambition and beauty is itself a kind of privilege and not just because it landed her "a Donald" and all the trimmings a Donald can provide. Good looking people are generally treated better in society to the point of worship in some cases, and given concessions not awarded the more unsightly lumbering and lurching amongst us. 




But don't take my word for it. There is plenty of research on the subject if you care to look for it. I'd direct you to some sources, but nobody seems to care about my sources so I won't bother. Besides, if you're not interested in doing any heavy reading, there are always sitcoms to showcase life's idiosyncrasies. The super powers and privilege of beauty, for instance, were adequately and amusingly depicted by Seinfeld's Nikki the Blonde (watch here).

As for Queen Dummy Joan, even without knowing what she looks like, it's easy enough to surmise she has lived a pampered existence by her own words. The most uncomfortable she has EVER been was Kara going off on her? What the? 


Jana is shocked to see Kara at Pierre's birthday, even though Grego did invite Kara, and in classic mean girl style, Jana bristles, "She's very brave to come here". Then, Jana, smug, with the over-confidence of a Neanderthal with a low IQ, appoints herself the hero of the group and confronts Kara, referencing white elephants, which doesn't make any sense. She of course meant the "elephant in the room" but lives to regret confronting the elephant because Kara will not back down and is all "bring it!" She wants to talk about this elephant, too. It turns out the opportunist-minded Jana is confused in more ways than one and is left speechless when Kara not only freely owns up to what she actually said, but further concedes that "yes, I will judge you if you take your clothes off". Nothing like brutal honesty. This, by the way, Jana, is why people generally avoid elephants.

No wonder she and her dummy squad are so "appalled" by Kara if the worst insult they've ever experienced is being reminded they were "falling down blind drunk" (when they were!). Or that it is uncouth to strip off one's clothes at a beautifully thought out dinner party put together by a gracious hostess, who went to much expense and trouble. They treated Kara's dinner as if it was a stagette and Kara had every right to voice her displeasure with their behavior. 


Flashback to that fateful night at Kara's dinner party: After way too much wine, Joan slurs, "We should all go skinny dipping!" Ah, fond memories. When your past drunken escapades come back to haunt you, it's best to deny everything and refuse to talk about it. This unfortunately becomes significantly trickier when your humiliation is recorded and put on television. Not too bright, there, wino.

In contrast, Joan and the dummy squad don't see anything wrong with their pitiful performance at Muskoka; their only issue is if someone comments on their behavior with anything but joviality and applause. They DO NOT like being judged and will "confront" ANYONE who dares to think of them as anything but fun-loving party girls (even though they are all well past the age where that's even plausible). 



Patron Saint of Plastic and Queen Dummy confabulating nonsense only a trophy wife could follow.

They do not like hearing gossip about themselves either (which, what did they think they were signing up for?), no matter how solidly based in fact, yet have NO PROBLEM dishonestly and maliciously gossiping about someone they don't like. This is what you call a hypocrite, folks. A hypocrite is someone who condemns in another what they celebrate and condone in themselves. 


Oops, there Jana is drinking and gossiping again. The dummy squad are busy maliciously gossiping about how they abhor gossips. It makes about as much sense as confronting elephants you pretend aren't there when they ARE there and then being shocked that you've awakened a beast you never really wanted to confront in the first place. You were just playing, putting on an act. It's very confusing being this deceptive.


Joan especially does not like hearing "unkind" things about herself, no matter how true, yet babbles on about the importance of honesty. I suppose it's easy to be an advocate of honesty if you truly believe in all honesty that you are above reproach, your integrity could never be questioned, and the circumstances of your privileged life support your deluded views.




Joan then, fully expecting to shame Kara into acquiescence, asks for the truth and when Kara gives her the truth, granted with the kind of dramatic flare normally reserved for a Broadway production, Joan does not know what to do. Not only has she never been told the real truth in her whole entire life, she has never been spoken to with such irreverence and therefore panics. 


In response to Joan and Ann's insinuation Kara was only after their money, she rightly points out, which it seems should go without saying:  "I did say I'm interested in the money for the charity, because it's not MY Ambi Gala. It's an Ambi Gala for the CHILDREN. I wasn't asking you to give money to ME, Joan."

Under Kara's "hostile" fire, Joan's heart "pounds" like it's never pounded before, and she does the only thing her frantic "flight or fight" response can think to do and makes a run for it. It's like watching a giraffe being pursued by a lion, or in this case, a female dragon with "flames shooting out her nostrils". Nice. 




I didn't realize dragons found simple giraffes enticing enough to pursue. But I suppose when you're a seasoned dragon, any annoying, self-exalting creature that has the nerve to squawk at you is fair game. 


Watch out now she's breathing fire. She's a dragon lady. Look into her crimson eyes.
Say goodbye ~ Crimson Glory
I guess Joan didn't know about dragons until she confronted one. Dragon ladies are very wise, Joan, they see through vanities, pomposity, phoniness, schemes and deception with the magical perception of a mind-reader. Beware of dragons, but don't worry about the posers. Go ahead and laugh at the posers. Real dragons laugh with you.


If you ever want a taste of what privilege is, here you go: This is Joan's reaction to being faced with someone who isn't interested in stroking her ego or supporting her denial: "This was an ambush and the MOST UNCOMFORTABLE moment of my life. I have NEVER had that much hostility and anger directed towards me". This coming from a woman who has traveled  extensively and seen firsthand some of the worst poverty on the planet. Maybe check your fucking privilege, Joan, if you're going to be a champion for starving children, at least if you want to be taken seriously by people who aren't interested in feeding your narcissism.

Speaking of posers, in addition to Joan who claims to be concerned with children's charities but only if those promoting the charities want to be her "friend" (with all the innuendo that entails), who do they think they're kidding with that ridiculous matchmaker date? They choose the most unsuitable, goofy sleazebag they could find to make Jana look better in contrast and also to give her yet another excuse to plug her Joga business? 


Jana takes advantage of her captive audience to once again give her Joga girl pitch ostensibly to Rob: "We make men feel successful in yoga, that's pretty much, you know, our motto; if you can't touch your toes, you're our perfect client". Every time Jana plugs her Joga business, Heidi Fleiss immediately comes to mind. I'm sorry, I can't help it.

They again did the exact same setup in The Real Housewives of Vancouver. The viewer is expected to suspend disbelief and unquestionably accept these "arrangements" are all spontaneously put together purely for "romance" with no ulterior agenda, no foreknowledge of who each other was, or what they were going to say. The viewer is supposed to just docilely sit there, distracted by fanciful fairy tale themes, as they're subliminally exposed to "branding" ploys and infomercial-style presentations. Come on.


Jana tells loser Rob Pagetto she hasn't been on a date in fifteen years because "you know, I didn't date while I was married". This is why I do not trust men and keep my distance. Jana stays faithful while douchebag Dave cheats on her and blows up her life. Dave isn't too bothered by what he's done though, and just goes out and finds a new replacement trophy wife named Haley of all names, leaving Jana alone with her bottle of wine, trying to piece back together the shards of her devastated existence.

Also, after weeks of casting her as the "slut" of the show (not me, the show is doing it, I'm just pointing it out, don't shoot the messenger), suddenly now Jana's all demure and grimaces at Rob's vulgar comments? But of course not too too demure. They do, after all, open the dating segment with Jana confiding, "I'm dipping my foot back into the dating pool and maybe, if things go well, I'll get wet". Classy


Jana: "Like, how can you let your hair down and have a good time when you know someone is looking at you and judging every move that you make?" Maybe don't put yourself on a REALITY TV SHOW if you don't want to be "judged", yogi.

But it begs the question, with her "roster of penis", hasn't she been getting wet enough? You'd think she'd be downright drowning in semen the way she carries on about it. Although, if her roster consists mostly of the "business elites" who invest "in" her, it's possible her own pleasure is of no concern to them. The best she can hope for in the "getting wet" arena is a money shot to the face.

(Again, don't shoot the messenger. I'm merely drawing attention to the way these shows, in subtle and not so subtle ways, manipulate the viewer's mind to think of women in predominately sexualized and demeaning terms. When they purposely leave comments like "getting wet" in the editing, they want your mind to "go there".


Jana stays naively hopeful: "Sometimes you have to meet a lot of frogs before you find your prince". There is no prince, Jana. It's just a swamp. Maybe some flies, but that's it.

These kinds of "bimbo" depictions of women in popular culture are at least partially to blame for why a man like Rob, Jana's date, sees NO PROBLEM with saying to a woman he just met and was supposedly trying to impress that "the French are horny and Italians are the best lovers". He thought he was being flirty and charmingly funny. He thought women loved that sort of thing. What Rob said is a "tell" that indicates he's an idiot. It also indicates he's been watching way too much internet porn and most likely has a problem. Porn addicts make terrible lovers anyway Jana, so no big loss.

It might incidentally seem like I'm being overly harsh towards Jana, but other than the slut thing, which probably has more to do with the editing than her as a person in real life, I actually find Jana's loyalty to her friends, messy hair, hippie vibe and awkwardness endearing. Snark, however, is my intention so that's as good as you're going to get).

Getting back to reality TV's convoluted concept of "truth", in the grand finale of episode nine, amidst another one of these extravagant adult birthday parties The Real Housewives are renowned for, Jana takes the lead and confronts Kara on Joan's behalf using a mixed up elephant metaphor to segue into her beef. A white elephant, Jana, and "the elephant in the room" have different meanings. 




Maybe a little less Joga and a little more reading there yogi, leader of bimbo, master of the word "like". Your athleticism and good looks will only get you so far, my little bleached-blonde Maca root. I suggest Elephants and Red Herrings (see here) to get you started. Better late than never.

In the meantime, if you're going to be this stupid at least have a sense of humor about it. Kara getting a banana boat to make them vomit is hilarious especially since it backfired on her! Why are they making such a big deal about this? Not only did they not vomit, but Kara ended up injured as a result of her attempt at banana boat "revenge" which Kara herself has a sense of humor about (when she isn't being irritatingly accused of inane falsehoods).


Kara reminds the dummy squad that they were all talking about skinny dipping but it was Joan who got blind drunk and took her panties off at Kara's dinner party. Jana, whose panties also come off on a whim or faster than you can say "Joga" screams in Kara's face, "Who cares!!!" No class, this woman. You can take the girl out of Alberta, but you can't take Alberta out of the girl.
It however is understandable that Kara wasn't laughing about them implying she used the Ambi charity gala for personal gain, Jana basically accusing Kara of embezzlement. Kara was thus totally justified in her indignation and reaction to Jana's accusation that "how dare you go and ask Joan for 25 thousand dollars for your event!". 


Kara mentors the dummies in clear, simple language, like she's speaking to obnoxious children who are having trouble following directions, "We can debate this all you want, but denying it doesn't mean it didn't happen". She then lays out again in straightforward language what actually happened. But this does nothing but confuse the dummies even more. After being schooled by Kara, rather than learning the lesson, Jana and the others are left in a state of bewilderment: "What just happened? How did this happen? Somehow she manipulated the conversation. I'm, like, wow, who is this woman?" She has the spirit of a dragon, Jana. Never underestimate dragons.

There is no way a dragon worth her fire can let slander like that go unanswered, but like any shrewd dragon, Kara sticks to the facts and simply, albeit dripping with sarcasm, replies, "It's not my event, my dear, it's about the children. It's not about me". Duh, Jana. Come on!

Jana, though, a woman whose entire existence is built around detecting "opportunity" like a rat looking for an opening into a well-stocked pantry, doesn't believe Kara. It doesn't align with Jana's worldview that a person would do anything, not even anything charitablethat doesn't foremost serve his or her personal interests.


The look of a woman whose illusions and denials have been tampered with.
It also doesn't seem to align with Ann's worldview, who ironically (since Ann looks more rubber doll than human) comes to the weird ass conclusion that Kara's reaction to their confrontation is because she "isn't human". 

Ann, "I get charity, but I don't get 'I'm really mad at everybody but I want everyone to spend money". Joan also doesn't get it, "When I hear essentially Kara just wants my money, I can't believe that she would even say that". It's CHARITY dingbats! The money doesn't go to the person asking for the donation! What the hell is wrong with you??
Ann just goes to prove you don't have to be particularly smart to be rich or enjoy worldly successful. She's as slow-thinking as Joan, who now doesn't know "which way is up" after Kara's superior intelligence has "confused" not only her (Joan) but the others as well.


Joan, still shell-shocked from being told the unvarnished truth, tells Grego she feels like she's been "trampled on". She says she "honestly doesn't know how to process" Kara's sugar-free honesty. And rather than wake up from her denial and take into consideration what Kara said, brilliant Joan decides instead that they've entered "the realm of ridiculous" (yeah, that must be it) where she doesn't "even know which way is up anymore". Sweaty Grego's "heart is beating" as well because she too has no idea which way is up. LADIES! Look behind Grego! Those two balding men know which way is up, just follow their bottles! Everyone knows how much you girls like "the bottle" so this should be a "no-brainer". Good grief. Is it safe for these two to be wandering around unsupervised?

But in the final moments of episode nine, as Kara's dragon tail effortlessly swats at the dummy squad's feeble attempts at character assassination, I'm more left wondering where lounge-lizard Pierre has gotten off to. My bet is on those Brazilian dancers his ditzy wife encouraged him to get up close and personal with. 


These people look totally insane. Am I the only one who sees it? Grego is downright manic over the debauchery, too. She says, "I wanted the dancers to grab Pierre!!!". As for Pierre, he admits the Brazilian dancers were the "icing on the cake". I bet they were, lounge-lizard. I. Bet. They. Were.
Perhaps my suspicion from an earlier blog of Pierre's lack of faithfulness is unfair. His wife seems to want him to partake in the fleshy delights of ladies who are not her. I've never understood women like this, who encourage a man's natural tendency to stray by enticing him with their friends, strippers, topless servers, pornography, etcetera. But then I'm the one with the failed marriage so what do I know? Personally I'd rather die broke and alone than put up with crap like that, but to each her own. I'm not the one living in a mansion.

That said, I think I've abused this episode enough.

Next week we enter the final stretch. Until then...

Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 1: Dumb, Plastic and Sleazy
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 2: Boring Housewives and Ugly Husbands
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 3: The Polished Real Housewives of Toronto
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 4: The Slut Shame
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 5: Amazing Reality TV Stars
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 6: Infomercials and Friends in High Places
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 7: Social Suicide: Game of Thrones to the Rescue
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 8: Curious incuriosity
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 9: Denials, Dragons and Dummies
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 10, Season Finale: Final Absurdities

Sunday, April 30, 2017

The Curious Case of Toronto's incurious Housewives

The Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode Eight

The Real Housewives of Toronto continues its brutal campaign to portray women as shallow, superficial and stupid. They are depicted as having very little curiosity in anything other than malicious gossip and how "amazing" they think they all look. 


Learned women are ridiculed because they put to shame unlearned men ~ George Sand

If it wasn't for Kara Alloway reciting poetry, introducing the work of new and upcoming artists and designers, or inviting us into her impressive home office where she gets down to business amongst some of the great writers of classical literature such as Melville, Tolstoy and Poe, all hope in the potential of woman would be lost. 


“The strongest of all warriors are these two — Time and Patience.” Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
Kara Alloway celebrates 22 years of marriage with a love poem and an appreciation for local artwork. She is a rare, multifaceted gem hidden amongst a garish jewelry case of fakes.
Normality is a paved road: It's comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow there ~ Vincent Van Gogh

This glimmer of hope, however, does not immediately shine until later in episode eight. First, we have to endure the sight of Roxy in a bubble bath barking orders at a terrified and subservient Elise, a flurry of hearsay and exaggerated claims revolving around Kara, ditzy women hooked up to a fat sculpting apparatus reminiscent of a scene from the Matrix, a booze cruise on a bus around Barcelona, and Jana and Grego meeting up with a matchmaker. 


Jana says she isn't willing to compromise and genius Grego, who did compromise with ugly Pierre, thinks "maybe that's why Jana's single". Grego wants to see Jana "comprise in love" so that she (Jana) can be told how beautiful she is all the time because her ego isn't big enough. What is this obsessive need plastic women have to be constantly told how fucking beautiful and desirable they are? Their supposed worldly confidence masks deep, deep rooted insecurities. No wonder they have so many interpersonal conflicts, scandalous affairs and broken marriages. 

Lark Productions presented the same professional matchmaking scenario in The Real Housewives of Vancouver. The lack of novel ideas in the Toronto series only emphasizes the overall theme of stupidity threaded throughout the entire season.

If Brett Wilson comes sauntering in wearing a weird fucking shirt, covered in fluorescent dinosaurs bones and Neanderthal skulls, or some such shit, when Jana is finally set up on this matchmaker date, just like he did in Vancouver with Mary Zilba, I think I will puke. He's getting older, his dates are getting younger. Pretty soon it'll be child brides and play dates at the swing set in his backyard, which is fitting since he does exhibit the mentality of an obnoxious shithead kid you want to flick in the head to make him shut up.


Here Brett Wilson is informing Mary Zilba (both using the show to "cross-promote" their various business/career interests so there's a precedence here) how great he thinks he is. He is so enamored with the sound of his own voice, his mouth never stops moving and might as well be his entire head. So that's why I've made his mouth his entire head. Learn to shut your pie hole, idiot.

The most perplexing piece of intel to come out of the whole matchmaking affair, though, is Jana confiding she has not been on a date in thirteen years. Um? The "Muskoka guy"? The "roster of men"? The "Mister Right Nows"? NONE of this carnival of penile delight has taken her on a date? It's all just straight booty call? 

And here I had credited her with being a female predator, a cunning huntress. Shame. And I don't mean "shame" for being a slut, I mean shame for not playing a better game! What kind of challenge is that? All the disease exposure, none of the fun? Disappointing. 

Hopefully she's at least managed to snag an orgasm or two out of all this debauchery and mindless promiscuity. Good god, Jana! You will never find the core of a man's "onion" this way. Besides, I hate to break it to you, but it is a rare male specimen that has anything meaningful below the murky surface, and it's a waste of emotion trying to "peel back the layers" to find it. There are no layers. Most men are even more shallow than plastic women. Wake up!


Joga tricks and tips. Wink, wink.
Have a little more respect for yourself than this. And you call yourself a "leader"? What are you leading young, impressionable women into, exactly? A life of Joga tricks and endless drunken one-night stands? It's a tragic statement of our times that women like Jana Webb are considered role models.

But of course it's silly to look for role models in a reality TV show and Jana has had ulterior motives from the outset. She is no more interested in finding "true love" or being a role model than I am, and the Real Housewives of Toronto is supposed to be entertaining, nothing more. Unfortunately, though, it's not really that entertaining either, which is why I'm forced into irrelevant, possibly insulting tangents when writing these blogs.

The Kara Alloway gossip, for example, is entertaining for maybe a minute before it gets old, yet the bulk of episode eight is dedicated to badmouthing her. Get over it. She never said anything that wasn't true, unlike Roxy who intentionally makes things sound way worse than they actually are. Spiteful, lazy woman. There is no reason for her to have an assistant! Do something for yourself  better yet, do something for something else!  you entitled waste of flesh.


Bubble bath Roxy ordering scrawny Elise around while she does nothing but lie back, drink champagne and babble about how she loves everything "big". It's all "big this and big that", She believes "bigger is better". She wants to be, own and consume everything and anything that is "big" If she could, she'd devour the entire planet.

But in episode eight the laziness is not simply relegated to Roxy's physical leisure and indulgences. There is also intellectual laziness in the form of incuriosity that has this blogger going fucking nuts. Joan went through a bomb scare at an airport?! Why was a bigger deal not made of this? Details, please! What the? 

When Joan attempts to convey how scary it was to live through a bomb threat and basically face her mortality, Ann pretends to listen for half a second with that unsettling Joker grin plastered on her filler-injected face (why do they all have that creepy smile?) before interrupting Joan mid-sentence to tell her how "great" she looks even though she's gone through an ordeal. 


Ann has lost her mind to filler and fluff: Who cares about bomb threats! Joan! You look scrumptious! Come a little closer, my pretty.

Joan is immediately flattered and distracted by the compliment, loses focus and redirects her attention to gossiping about Kara. My rekindled esteem for Joan from episode seven is effectively snuffed out. Stupid, vindictive woman. 


Joan: I know! I am a beautiful, perfect goddess!!! And I WILL NOT have anyone say otherwise!! "I can't have people going around slamming me behind my back. Like, I have to put my foot down". I think you mean cloven hoof, there trophy-giraffe.

I'm further disgusted with Joan, the "goddess of high society", when in a later gossip session it comes to light that, as I suspected in an earlier blog (never underestimate the intuition of a patient woman who has been wronged), there are strings and vanities attached to Joan's philanthropy. 

If Joan was truly concerned about the plight of children living in poverty, or any of the other miseries that befall many accursed soul chained to this wicked earth, it wouldn't matter to her that someone was talking behind her back. She would be able to shoulder the burden of humiliation knowing it's a small price to pay for her otherwise privileged existence, put her own feelings aside, and buck up the $25,000 for charity. Don't worry, Donald can afford it. Stingy son-of-a-bitch.




(As a sidenote, why are women always referred to as goddesses in these shows? They aren't goddesses, they are mannequins. Learn the difference and stop insulting real gods and goddesses).

Trophy-giraffe really missed out on some amusing weird ass shit, too. It would have been worth the 25 grand just to see Ann in that bizarre My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding gown she materialized in, dragging her dog behind her. Stephen might have even been imprisoned under the scads of tulle and ruffles, eating Joan's homegrown vegetables in some sort of sick S&M game Stevie dreamed up to keep his, what I'm beginning to think is mentally disturbed, wife satisfied.


Ann is so frantic she might lose Stevie at any moment, she makes him her captive, taking him wherever she goes, even if it means stowing him away under her dress. She keeps him in line with a vegetable to his throat. It's like watching a Boxing Helena reversal of roles. 

Observing Dr. Munchkin with his Amazonian wife as they make their Cynosure presentation, as well as the Sculpsure fat-contouring demonstration they perform using the Real Housewives of Toronto as dummy demo models was also amusing. 


Dummy Squad on the prowl. No curiosity about bomb threats or nurturing their intellect by researching new things, but Joan and Jana are excited and "curious" about being demo models. They will be modeling for Stephen as he demonstrates the SculpSure procedure to other doctors with dollar-signs for-eyes, who have come from all around the world to hear him and his marketing Amazonian wife deceive speak.


Stephen,under the ever watchful purview of his mildly deranged wife, informs the dummy models: "I'll walk you through the treatment, it'll be a comfortable way to annihilate some fat"

I don't know about anyone else, but I was literally laughing out loud watching this. I guess it could just be me. I understand not everyone shares my sense of humor, but personally I relish any time Stevie is on the monitor. He doesn't even have to say anything. The mere sight of him sets me off into hysterics (even right now just thinking about him is making laugh). 


How can any of these people take themselves so seriously?? Do they not see how utterly ridiculous they are?? I'm so confused. It's a curious thing, which reminds me: Why are these women so willing to just accept the claims of a medical technology company without any interest whatsoever in investigating the legitimacy of their products, as well as possible risks and complications? See? No curiosity. 


The truth comes out as Roxy muses, "Who doesn't want to burn off an inch of fat?" (I thought she was "proud" of her curves?). Apparently she only likes her "curves" under certain circumstances. If someone tells her she can get rid of these curves without doing anything then suddenly she's all anti-fat this, curves be damned that! Does anyone see the cognitive dissonance here? 

Roxy's thrilled just lying there doing nothing other than brushing her hair, hooked up to "the machine" with its promise of effortless fat trimming. If this isn't blue-pill living, I don't know what is.


Morpheus: This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and see how deep the rabbit-hole goes ~ The Matrix

The always guaranteed to be bland, Joan, as well as twin dummies, Grego and Jana (Jana, who as we all know is already accustomed to spending a lot of time on her back) are also quite comfortable just lying there unquestioningly, Joan stating "it's a no-brainer". She has the no brain part right, anyway. 


Jana Webb: "You have to be in great shape if you want to climb to the top (but first you have to get on your knees, lie down or bend over)". Slave.

To be fair, Jana does exhibit a brief spark of curiosity, wondering, "Will it leave a mark? You know, it's technology so there's room for error". However, this spark extinguishes almost as quickly as it appears, and without another thought she obediently submits to being hooked up to "the machine". 

As a final sidenote: Actually, Jana, often technological "errors" have more to do with clumsy, haphazard human hands than the actual technology itself (if it's engineered properly by people not driven solely by capitalistic greed, that is). The real area to direct your skepticism at is marketing. That's where the true manipulation and deception takes place. But that's another issue. I will let this one go and spare you the tangent.

Until next week, then, ladies.

Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 1: Dumb, Plastic and Sleazy
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 2: Boring Housewives and Ugly Husbands
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 3: The Polished Real Housewives of Toronto
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 4: The Slut Shame
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 5: Amazing Reality TV Stars
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 6: Infomercials and Friends in High Places
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 7: Social Suicide: Game of Thrones to the Rescue
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 8: Curious incuriosity
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 9: Denials, Dragons and Dummies
Real Housewives of Toronto, Episode 10, Season Finale: Final Absurdities